


Windrose

by DetectiveRoboRyan



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Experimental, F/F, Flowers, Fluff, Gift Work, Recursive Fanfiction, Strange Lyrical Storytelling I Don't Usually Do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:01:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7098250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveRoboRyan/pseuds/DetectiveRoboRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>May wants to get a little something special for her friend-slash-roommate Lacey, to let her know she's wanted and appreciated, and flowers seem like a good way to do that. How hard can it be to get some flowers back home on time? The answer may surprise you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Windrose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Littlemapleleaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlemapleleaf/gifts).
  * Inspired by [First Aid Kits and Deep Secrets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4692170) by [Littlemapleleaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlemapleleaf/pseuds/Littlemapleleaf). 



> SO sometimes you just have to try new things, right, try something you might not've done before, y'know, its this kind of thing that keeps life interesting and makes it feel longer and more fulfilling, and y'know also sometimes that thing might be a gift for someone right, somethin short and sweet, only it turns out to be like 3k but that's what life's all about isn't it, it's about unexpected things in new directions and uh. stuff
> 
> and maybe I also want to give these gay cephalopod kids a break, sue me.
> 
> nanna christmas just appeared so uh. well may you made a friend

May had left the apartment that morning on a mission. After saying goodbye to Lacey and promising she'd be back sometime after lunch, she set out for the more populated areas of Inkopolis to hopefully earn some money and buy a few necessities— things like food, which were kind of necessary to survive and stuff. It didn't go so badly, but turf wars had never really been May's scene, so she made herself scarce once she had enough. And with two big paper bags full of dried seaweed, microwaveable Crabby Cakes, instant noodles (advertized as shrimp flavor, but they tasted more like salted cardboard), and energy drinks (six for a coin, what a bargain! Though that was probably because May was one of maybe three or four people in the city who willingly bought them), May started back for the little apartment she called home— but something on her way caught her eye.  
  
It wasn't like May to get distracted by pretty flowers. Usually she kept her head down and avoided eye contact with anything that breathed, as one did. Inkopolis was a busy city, full of people from all walks (or swims, as the case may be) of life, and it also wasn't like May to make herself take up very much space among crowds. Better for everyone if she could slip in and out unnoticed, she figured.  
  
Maybe, then, it was the fact that that day felt like a somewhat lighter day in the parade of suckiness that was her life. Like something had decided, _You know what, May, I'll take some of that baggage for a bit, you go have fun today._ Normally May would question that, and perhaps stubbornly insist on carrying her own emotional baggage, thank-you-very-much, but she maybe found herself being okay with not hating herself for a bit, on this day. It was the circumstance that allowed the distraction.  
  
It wasn't that she was distracted by the flowers themselves— though they were pretty, little white daisies and pink roses in a picture-perfect springtime bouquet, set off to the side as something extra, something small, and wrapped in a pretty pink ribbon— but the card in front of them.  
  
_A little something for a little someone special,_ it read. It was the type of arrangement a grade school student would get their best friend, if May wasn't mistaken. Ordinarily she would've shrugged it off as silly and superficial, but today, she hesitated. She knew someone special, after all (though she was still coming to terms with it herself). Would it hurt to pick up a gift that Lacey might enjoy a little more than cheap fries or Crabby Cakes? Would it, indeed, hurt her to show a little more appreciation for her circumstantial roommate, who had proven herself one of a few who could stand her presence for extended periods of time?  
  
With a resounding and uncharacteristically optimistic no, May bought the little something for a little someone special for a not-so-little amount, and, at the sales clerk's prompting, a card to go with it. _Your sweetheart will appreciate it,_ the clerk had said. _She's not my sweetheart,_ May had wanted to reply, but her face flushed far too much for her to say anything but a fumbled thank-you as she hurried back out the door.  
  
Bouquet and card in hand, May kept walking. She felt a little smile come to her face when she imagined how pleased Lacey would be— she was probably beyond bored with May's tiny, dingy apartment, too. Having a little something pretty would cheer the place up quite a bit.  
  
She really ought to write something on the card, though. May stopped at one of the benches beside a bus stop, next to an old lady at least Captain Cuttlefish's age and pulled a pen from her pocket to write something in the card.  
  
May chewed at her lip as she thought about what to say, then she sighed through her nose. Words sucked.  
  
"Having trouble?" the old lady asked.  
  
"A bit," May found herself admitting. "I'm trying to write something to my… my roommate about how glad I am we're friends, and that I like being around her, but every time I try to put it into words, it sounds sappy and gross."  
  
"Ah," the old lady said, in that creaky way old ladies did. "I wouldn't be afraid of sounding sappy if I were you, sugar. She matters to you, doesn't she?"  
  
"Of course," May nodded. She glared back at the blank space of the card, and out of spite, wrote _Dear Lacey,_ followed by nothingness— just to keep it from being totally blank.  
  
The bus wheezed to a stop at the sign, and the old lady stood up. "Good luck, sugar. I'm rooting for you!"  
  
"Take care, and thank you," May said, giving her a little wave as the strange old lady took her cane and hobbled onto the bus.  
  
She frowned back at the blank card. She was about to write something about I saw these flowers in a shop window on my way home and thought of you, but as the bus drove off, an errant gust of wind yanked the card from May's hands!  
  
"No, dammit!" May cursed, clutching the flowers tight in one hand as she ran after her card. Elbowing pedestrians out of the way, she chased it down the sidewalk, muttering expletives under her breath while the wind toyed with Lacey's card like the ocean smashed litter against the seashore.  
  
May had a horrible thought of what would happen if her card landed in a puddle, or worse, over the city bulwark and in the ocean itself. She'd never be able to get it back! And she couldn't just present the flowers to Lacey unadorned— May wasn't sure how classy Lacey was, and given how nice she'd been about just about everything (after the initial attempted murders passed, anyway), but she wasn't about to be so blatantly un-classy as to give someone a gift without explaining herself.  
  
May was so focused on running after her card that she barely noticed when she tripped over a curb and fell flat on her face. But she was Agent 3, dammit— she'd had worse than a bruised nose and split lip. She shoved off well-meaning would-be Good Samaritans and kept running after that card, her grocery bags still clutched in one arm and the flowers, a bit battered at this point, in her hand. She could still see it, at least. That was something.  
  
In pursuit of her card, May shoved aside high schoolers, ducked under policemen, jaywalked, and climbed fences chasing the gust of wind that'd so cruelly pulled her card from her hands. She must've run across half of Inkopolis before the wind dropped her letter in a park tree, which May crashed into face-first.  
  
She growled under her breath and glared at the card caught in the tree. Then she stuck her flowers in one of the bags, tied her off-brand hoodie around her waist, and started wriggling her way up the tree.  
  
It was slow going. Her hands were scraped and stinging, and she fell at least twice— but she wouldn't give up. She tasted sweet victory when she grabbed the card again, unintentionally wrinkling it, and pulled a victory fist to herself before pulling her pen out again and writing, _I saw these flowers and they reminded me of you, because they're sweet and cheerful and pretty, just like you._ (Never let it be said that May was a particularly adept wordsmith.)  
  
She jumped back down from the tree— and stuck the landing, she would proudly say later, recounting the story to Lacey, and later Aaron, Gil, and Matt. All that free-running training May had gone through during agent initiation served her well.  
  
She sat down at the base of the tree, intent to finish writing that damned card and then stick it safely in one of her grocery bags where it couldn't get blown away, but the rumbling of thunder on the horizon caught her attention. She sighed, annoyed, and tucked the card in one of her bags anyway, figuring she should get home before the storm hit. The wind was already picking up.  
  
May collected her bags and checked to see that the flowers were alright. Seeing that they were, she stood up and left the park.  
  
It was at this point she realized she had no idea where she was. The sidewalks were emptying, now that pedestrians were going into the many interconnected subway stations to escape the oncoming rain. May would've done the same if she had more than twelve cents on her subway card and more than sixty-four in her pocket.  
  
May glanced up and down the sidewalks, walking in a random direction. The aboveground bus stop or subway maps were no help— she barely used public transportation, and her building wasn't near any of the major stops. Likely that was what made it so cheap, in hindsight. To prevent something like this from happening again, May resolved to learn what subway stations were near her building when she got home.  
  
The sky darkened quicker than May expected, and she had to duck under a café awning when the rain began with a steady pitter-patter that grew into a dull roar. She set her bags on one of the outside tables as she zipped her hoodie back up.  
  
She glanced at a nearby clock and sighed. It was already late afternoon. She hoped Lacey wasn't worried— not because May seriously thought anyone would worry about her of all people (she was getting to the point where she understood how self-destructive that was and was feeling just good enough to start challenging it that day, at least she had in the morning), but because she didn't like seeing Lacey upset. Lacey deserved to smile all the time, to be happy! May felt awful for making her worry.  
  
She was just about to pull her hood over her head and brave the trek through the rain when the door to the café jingled, and a familiar old lady walked out.  
  
"Why, hello again," she said with a polite smile. "Goodness me, you look like you ran across half of Inkopolis."  
  
It was then May became aware of her bruised nose and blood crusting on her lip, her scraped hands and skinned knees, the dirt on her shins and shoes, the leaves and twigs and bits of grass clinging to her hoodie and shorts. "I did," was all she said.  
  
The old lady nodded, in that knowing way old ladies did. "Come inside. I'll make you a cup of hot chocolate."  
  
"That's really not necessary," May tried to say. "I was just about to be going. I can't pay for…" She trailed off and looked away. This random stranger didn't need to know she'd spent her turf war money on flowers and a card as well as her groceries.  
  
"Nonsense," the old lady insisted. "What's your name, dearie? At least stay and keep an old bat company until the worst of the storm goes away."  
  
May sighed. "It's May," she said, holding the door for the old lady on her way in. "Thank you for the hot chocolate, ah…"  
  
"Nanna Christmas," the old lady introduced herself, before busying herself with May's hot chocolate. May set her bags down on one of the booth tables, and sat down on the edge of the seat. Without meaning to, she positioned herself with her back to the wall and all exits in sight and a sprinting distance from her spot.  
  
 Nanna Christmas set a mug of hot chocolate (with whipped cream! And sprinkles! May felt her long-thought-suppressed inner child leap in excitement) in front of her, which May gratefully took. It warmed her cold hands straight through, and ran down her throat in a wonderful sensation of warmth that May felt herself shiver. She hadn't realized how chilly she'd gotten.  
  
"So did you figure out what to say to your sweetheart?" Nanna Christmas asked, settling herself across from May. The café was empty except for them— it looked like a little place where Nanna Christmas was the only employee, the kind you didn't see much in the city, what with brand-name businesses swallowing everything. May didn't often eat at these kinds of places, considering they had to raise prices higher than fast food joints just to stay in business.  
  
"She isn't my sweetheart," May mumbled, flushing a little. "But… a bit. After you left, the letter got blown away by a gust of wind, and I chased it into the park across the street there. I can't just present a gift without a note, you know?"  
  
"How courtly," Nanna Christmas said with a kind smile. "I'm sure she'll love it."  
  
May nodded, and looked at the rain out the window, taking another sip of her chocolate. "If I can manage to get home, that is. I told her I'd be home not long after lunch, but here it is way later than that, and I'm on the other side of the city."  
  
"Oh, goodness," Nanna Christmas said. "Don't you think she'll be worried?"  
  
"I hope not," May frowned. "But I promised her we'd watch Squid Cannon 2: The Re-Squiddening today, and… well, she might get worried. She tends to when I'm late. And since my phone broke, I can't exactly call her to say I got held up trying to get a present."  
  
May didn't know where all of this was coming from, but Nanna Christmas nodded sagely. "Sounds like you need to get home quick."  
  
May chuckled humorlessly, sipping her hot chocolate. It warmed her to her core— she hadn't realized how much she missed a good cup of hot chocolate when it was rainy out. "If I knew how to get home, I'd be able to. But I don't live near any of the major subway stations or bus stops. I'm all the way at the southern end of the city."  
  
"You've come a long way, haven't you?" Nanna Christmas tutted. "Your friend is lucky to have you, dearie."  
  
May felt herself blush. "I wouldn't say that…"  
  
Nanna Christmas stood. She disappeared behind the café counter and returned with a black umbrella, a huge yellow raincoat, and two hot cups of hot chocolate in a little carrier. May watched in confusion, standing up from her chair, as Nanna Christmas's tiny yet insanely powerful old-lady might gently guided May into the raincoat, which was at least four sizes too big and came down to her knobby knees.  
  
"You can get to Inkopolis Tower following Cuttlefish Drive," Nanna Christmas explained. "Just a block to the left of here. Can you find your way home from there?"  
  
"I think so," May replied, dazed. "Thank you— thank you for everything. When should I bring this stuff back?"   
"Don't worry about it," Nanna Christmas insisted. "But you'd best get going. It'll take you awhile to walk down to Inkopolis Tower, especially in this weather."  
  
"Oh, alright," May said. "Um— Mrs. Christmas—"  
  
"Nanna," Nanna Christmas insisted.  
  
"Nanna Christmas," May tried again. It felt unspeakably strange. "But— why do all this?"  
  
Nanna Christmas handed her the umbrella and the drinks and her grocery bags. "Because, dearie," she said, a glint in her eye. "I believe the world should be a more loving place."  
  
May couldn't quite comment on that. It felt as if the world spiraled around her, and the next thing she knew, she was back under the awning with her grocery bags and her flowers and the drinks, and a big black umbrella in her hand. The café, when she looked back, looked as brightly-lit as ever, except that Nanna Christmas seemed to have disappeared. Even May's empty hot chocolate cup was gone.  
  
It was weird, but not weird enough for May to investigate. So she kept walking— over a block and down Cuttlefish Drive, like Nanna Christmas had said.  
  
As a rule, inklings and rain didn't get along. Unlike falling into water, it wouldn't dissolve them on contact, but rain certainly wasn't pleasant. May clung to the umbrella and her bags as she walked down the empty sidewalks, her dirty sneakers splashing in the puddles formed in the wells of each concrete tile. It wouldn't have been a bad walk, in the sunshine.  
  
But May was on a mission, and as one of the clocks chimed nine, she was reminded who she had waiting for her at home. She picked up her pace, the shifting of the flowers in her bag reminding her with every step why this outing had taken her so long.  
  
By the time May arrived at the plaza, she was sprinting and it was nearly ten. She breathed heavily, letting herself lean against a building to catch her breath. She only prayed Lacey had gone to sleep by now, instead of staying up worrying about her. May was tough, and Lacey knew May was tough, but still, Inkopolis could be a dangerous city, and there was always the chance something would go wrong.  
  
So May pulled herself off the wall and got back to walking, gritting her teeth in determination.  
  
Staggering back to her apartment and wearily kicking the door open felt like she'd just triumphed over a mountain. It seemed her prayers had been answered, because the lights were off and the front area was empty. May dumped her bags on the coffee table, which creaked in protest, and set the drinks next to it. She toed off her shoes and hung the raincoat on a nail in the wall that'd once held a picture, and flopped on the couch with little ceremony. She was just glad to have gotten home.  
  
An hour later, Lacey woke from her halfhearted dozing. She padded silently into the front room, and smiled when she saw May, passed out and a bit battered from the day's events, but very much alive. She took one of the blankets off the bed and draped it over May, and then went back to the bedroom.  
  
The flowers still sat poking out of one of the grocery bags, the card half-written, but the understanding at that quiet moment was that Lacey mattered more to May than needed to be said by words on a card and some pretty flowers.

**Author's Note:**

> _i cant be the only one who thinks they just need to be like "fuck everyone lets smooch"_


End file.
